


The Case of the Valedictorian

by Settoheart



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Abuse mentioned, Angst, Chapter Fic, Competition, Courtshipping, Detailed heavily, Drama, F/F, Gay, Human AU, Plot, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn, Steven Universe - Freeform, Zirconshipping, college kids, lawyer AU, murder case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2018-11-22 17:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11384640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Settoheart/pseuds/Settoheart
Summary: Zabira found it easier to pass on by unnoticed. She has remained under the radar of most everyone for over two years already- except, she hasn't been able to avoid the notice of her yellow-haired classmate, Zanita. The two never seemed to get along, not with Zanita's desire to remain on top and knock anyone down, nor Zabira's unfurled intention to steal her throne. This time, however- when both are thrown together to solve a school murder case, they find themselves both repelling and attracting the other- along with attracting lots of trouble from their class, their teacher, and their school. Whether as enemies,as friends, or as something more, the two must find it in themselves to challenge one another to win the case- and win each other's heart.





	1. Enter: Zabira

**Author's Note:**

> Zabira=Blue Zircon  
> Zanita=Yellow Zircon

Rain.  
Of course it had to rain.  
Once again I had foolheartedly believed that I could read," The Law of Success," without falling asleep, but how can I help it? It's the rain. 

It beats down on every hard surface, but not too harshly, like how a horse's hooves thump against soft grass, or how ladies' heels click on laminated tiles. A far away, yet present sound that is the backdrop to emptiness. Now, by no means am I saying that emptiness is the fellow-feeling of worthlessness, but what I am saying is that I'm not depressed. I just really enjoy how the rain sounds, and how it saturates everything into a monotone shade, and suddenly you don't feel so important. You become as insignificant as that dog that lays under a dumpster, or that inner city bus driver, or that food cart vendor- or that faceless law school student that everyone says is from Pakistan when I have repeatedly mentioned that my family was from Algeria- 

But, again, it's not about the mood the rain sets, it's about how the rain cloaks you in wet drops like everyone else; not the dog, not the thief, not even a king can repel the adhesive properties of these bubbles of water, regardless of what you are. So, you become like everyone else. You lose your form- you just become the observer. There isn't any worry that accompanies you, you just watch people go about their lives as if you didn't exist to anyone; as if you aren't anything. At that point, you're as good as a lamppost, or maybe a street pigeon if you dislike the concept of being inanimate. 

Regardless, my mind drifted off into the shelter of the drumming rain and I fell asleep with my book resting open on my chest; the pages were badly crinkled from being pressed. I should be more careful- I'm renting this book after all.  
My room didn't offer me much homely comfort (no decorations aside from a picture frame on my desk, an uncomfortable office chair, and my blue striped bed sheets), it was far too bare on my side, so I didn't bother to sit and look at anything for too long. I got up and motioned to push my desk chair aside when the door to my room swung open in a wild fashion.

My roommate (begrudgingly,) entered in as though she was running from a stampede, and sprinted past me with barely any acknowledgment. She weaseled in and around my neat paper piles, dangerously close to slipping, before accessing the desk on her side of the room; I could hear her yap incessantly," Charger! Where is it? Where is it?!" rummaging in the drawers until I could hear what I believe to be a hiss. To be fair, I wouldn't even know where to begin looking for my things when this entire week has been a blur of just getting caught up in the crowd of students who are running around the entire campus, attempting to be organized while still trying to attend three different dorm parties on the same day, and then being ready for Mr. Eaton's Criminal Law class the next morning. Wait a minute- 

Shoot!  
I'm going to be late too! It's five minutes to three! I scrambled for my binder, then an ill-tempered yelp and thud stole my attention from behind. The sound was quickly replaced by a grunt and sharp breath, and then the ruffled, blonde rooster of a girl flew up to her feet before spitting," Zara! Clean these papers up before I break my neck!" The nerve-- Heck, the audacity of her! Before I could even interject that some of those piles of homework belonged to her, she dashed off in a disheveled prance, as if being in the same room as I had emitted a foul odor strong enough to excuse a discourteous exit. Suddenly, I was alone, and among the mess, I could only bite down the fervent words that sat heavily on my tongue; If she had stayed, oh how I would have given her a piece of my mind! But- I only had enough heart in me to yell," It's Zabira!" in response.  
Nobody answered.  
\--------------------------------------------------------  
I'll tell you, I never thought that I would be the one running through campus like the quintessential," late for their first day," high school student you see in those tv shows; this sort of thing never happened to me. But, now that I think about it, that day didn't feel like a regular day, nor was it. I'm telling you this now because you wanted to know how I became the University's Valedictorian and how I won Milvakel murder case in my junior year- it's a very long story. And I'm only telling you this because you're my friend. But, it all began that day, with the assignment.

Many tend to say that most events are coincidences, but I'll say that my lateness for Mr. Eaton's class was far too timely and convenient for it to be just a coincidence- I know, I know, I'm rambling, but please hear me out. It's one of these events that makes me think that had I not been there, I probably wouldn't have ended up where I did. I probably would have lost the case. 

I'm talking about what I saw; through the column corridor of Building C, I saw it happen. Everything was blurred, but I could still make out the two of them- the victim and the suspect. I must have been some couple hundred feet away, but I still remember watching Milvakel hurry away from Building A- he was looking around, making full spins- it's like he was looking for somebody. Was it a friend? Who knew at the time. 

But then, they came. I can't explain just how this person seemed to appear out of thin air, you would have had had to see it, it was like a ghost or some equivalent. A person draped in a black hoodie and black pants, hands in their pockets, looking just like everyone else. But as soon as he (Milvakel) saw them, he stopped dead in his tracks and started backing away. It was clear that this person had some bone to pick with the kid here-  
but it wouldn't have been anything new. People choose to beat people up for many, often silly, reasons. All I can tell you is that the person in black landed the first punch- square in the kid's face. I assumed that the guy must have done something to deserve this; it looked like any old fist fight to me. I don't enjoy cheering on violent displays of power anyway, so I wouldn't have missed anything interesting had I stayed and watched (my thoughts at the time). So, I turned away and ran the last hundred feet to class; I was five minutes late anyway. It was just two kids going at each other. What more could there have been?  
\-------------------------------------------------------------  
Mr. Eaton's class was located at the end of the hall, mind you, it was on the fourth-floor. His classes were always full- but this class had also been one of his smaller ones; I was one of fifty students. Unfortunately, I was also one of only seven girls- I wasn't spared from any rapacious gazes like I had in my previous years. No, I wasn't spared at all, but it wasn't my fault! It was hers. 

You know who I'm talking about. Her smug face, how she sits with hands folded in front of her when she knows her answer, her thorny blonde bush of hair, how her voice gets all condescending when she explains anything to you- gah! She was the worst. I had that abhorrent ass follow me since my first year; she was in every class of mine- I'm not kidding! Not to mention she was always the exhibitionist of the class, there was never a moment where anyone could get a word in if she was in one of her conceited moods. And it wasn't any different for this class either. I'll tell you, as soon as I opened the door, I was surprised to see that the teacher wasn't present, but she had taken center stage (as usual). Some of the class had gathered around her seat (the rest was just reading or chatting; good for them, I wish I had that opportunity), and once again she was giving her lengthy (and overused) opinion on how "legal positivism has full reign and cancels out the morality issue of Natural Law-" before cutting it short. 

A feline smirk formed when her eyes shot straight to mine, and of course, that meant I was about to have yet another charade of student civility between us. "Well, well- look who finally decided to show up! I was thinking you were going to miss my thesis on," the role of custom and general principles in the development of international criminal law." You remember the assignment, don't you?"  
I scoffed, fiddling my briefcase under my arm. "To be honest, I think I'd prefer to listen to the dissertation on why bingo games in North Carolina are limited to five-hour intervals." She rolled her eyes, allowing me a moment to sit down before she further insisted that she had something good to say.  
"Now- I would totally come to that if it was you who was presenting it. I think we should all support the quests of the classes' most mediocre student." She swept her open palm to the packed group beside her, eliciting harsh smiles and a chuckle or two; it always happened this way.  
"Fuck off already." Tch- I was a straight-A student, she was only better by a fourth of a margin, but it was enough to piss me off. How could she be better than me?  
"OH- Now Zabby~ I think you'll get points off on the next mock debate if you start talking like that."  
"Zanita- I swear to god you better shut your mou-"  
I didn't get a chance to finish; I was silenced when the  
door burst open and my stout professor entered in as a heaving mess. The class turned mute and began to shuffle to their seats in a rushed fashion; Zanita merely glanced back to me with a slimmer of mockery in her face (I'm sure she would have said something along the lines of, "Class is starting, better look like you're worth the space you take up.") 

Our professor, for all of his infamy, looked rather regular. Round, bald (save his mustache and the sides of his head), a brown plaid shirt with beige khakis- he could easily have been mistaken for an office worker in a sitcom, or a teleoperator, or just about anyone drab and lifeless. But- everyone took his class, and for his lack of attractive physicality, he made up for it with his crazy assignments. He had a knack for surprises; like two years ago he made his students in one class switch with the forensics class for two days so his students get a better understanding of how easy it is to misinterpret results. Another year, he made his class write and argue a case for a murderous clown who "killed," some of the class for Halloween (the clown was in costume and present throughout the trial). Yet another time he had his class take a trip to the sewers and have a mock debate on whether" sewer ecosystems need to be preserved for the survival of lizard men." (I'm not kidding, it's on the school's webpage). When I first heard these assignments, I knew that I had to take his class. I am a serious law school student of course, but it's the unusual cases that prepare you the most. I waited for hours for any of his sections to open up, I was lucky to get the one with the least amount of students; of course, the consequence was that I had to be in the same class as Zanita, but, I'm not dropping out just because she's here. It would be far too easy, and I wouldn't hear the end of it from her either (she would rub it in my face even worse than now). 

At last, Mr. Eaton placed his papers on his desk, shaking a bit of water of his jacket before running his hand through his bald spot; he seemed to be thinking about something, which isn't unusual, but he looked rather focused. I could see him rest his hands on the top of his desk, he didn't look at the class but stared in between his hands for far too many moments. In fact, it had been fifteen minutes since lecture started. The class began to squirm- shifting of books, feet, a sigh expelled, a cough or two- nobody was saying anything. I felt my own hand waver in front my mouth and bit my nails, trying to find out why he was so still. You could hear quivering pencils on paper, tapping, clicking of pens- why were we all getting like this?

It seemed like an eternity, but finally, he looked up at us. There was a smile there- but it wasn't as wide, he wasn't full of glee like he usually was. It was s slight smile, a contemplative one.

"I have the semester assignment."

A murmur commenced from the crowd before Mr. Eaton raised his hand to signal for silence.

"Every year, I select a class to do a fun assignment aside from lecture work- and I have selected all of you this year." 

I haven't heard such good news for many months.  
Yes! I get to do an assignment! I remember trying to hold my excitement in by covering my mouth to hide my smile; I didn't want anyone's furrowed glances. This will be the year I'll beat out everyone else for the Kepelker Award-  
It's something given out by Mr. Eaton for a successfully won case that he judges; it earns you the right to a class of your choice for the following semester, and your name is put in the school newspaper. This is my chance to get my name out there! Zabira Acimi- the most brilliant defense lawyer! I can almost see it! My name printed in bold- according to urban legend, those that make the paper can make a wish the night before publishing; whatever is wished for then becomes true! It's silly, but I'd do anything to get hired by the Diamond Corporation, so I'm not going to take any chances.

The professor waited for us all to turn our attentions back to him before continuing. But what he said next made us drop our enthusiasm.  
"Now class... I have decided to change things up this year."  
The room fell silent, and something in my own heart seemed to skid to a stop too.  
"This will be one of the most difficult assignment's that I've come up with. It'll require your best effort, and will last the entire semester." He gazed upon the room with a serious glance, no humor in his face. Was he looking for terror in us? Worry? When his glance passed over me, I lost the feeling in my fingers and toes, it felt like his stare stood the longest on my side of the room, observing us. Looking for something in our faces.  
His smile returned, more maniacal than before. Was I looking at a Mr. Hyde?  
A moment goes by before he is satisfied enough to tell us the rest. In a swift movement, he lifted his hand into the air- his index finger extended-thumb raised to the ceiling- and the hand swings to the middle of the class- 

"There was a murder on campus! And the killer is on the loose!"

A sharp gasp escaped us all- a girl shrieked with enough terror to disarm us, and Mr. Eaton was taken aback.  
"No-No, it's not a real murder. It's obviously a staged one. Who would even commit-" He stops himself short when the whole class sighed with what sounded like relief (Would they really have us make a case for a real murder? Seriously?). Once the ruckus stopped, he drew us back in with a cough. 

"The "murder" was committed by building A, the forensics class is most likely already there, taking data and samples. You will build a case as prosecutors and as defendants, and I will give the verdict. Whose ever verdict I choose, guilty, or not guilty, I will award the Kepelker Award and you will have a spot in the school newspaper. Only one of you will succeed." He stops to gives the class another glance, now having a more easy-going smile when he sees our eagerness and terror-

"The rules are simple. Each week you will have to meet a certain case collections quota, it will be points that validate your argument. No more than a page or two. My assistant will evaluate your case buildings and eliminate you based on how good and valid the arguments are. The last three days of the semester will be dedicated to the trial- at that point, there will be one prosecutor and one defendant left. Those that get out early can help the remaining two students build their case as well. But, be wary of misinformation. "

It was nerve wracking to see fifty students on the edge of their seats, and since I was closest to the door, I suddenly had the ominous realization that everyone was looking at the door with the same sort of intensity.  
"You all will be working with the forensic and the crime analysis class to gather your data, remember you are working with many different people to build your case. Make sure your information sources are sound. Now- "  
He stopped once more, held his finger up to direct us.  
"Under your desks are either blue or yellow post-it notes, whichever you have will indicate whether you are the prosecutor or the defendant. Blue for defendant, yellow for prosecutor. Take a moment now to see which one you are."

I didn't move. Having the knowledge that I'm both the detective and one of the trial parties made me realize just what sort of situation I've gotten myself into. Not to mention I have immense competition, forty-nine other students are going to try and win the same prize I have my eyes on-  
I wasn't able to get my arms to move in any direction, just having my hands in my lap. There was an immense heaviness in my chest and I could feel that every breath was painstaking shallow, were my nails digging that hard into my hand? I didn't want to know the outcome, I didn't want to lose. I don't want to be left behind again.  
"Zabby~ Whatchyou get?"  
A snide voice reinstated itself back into my conscious. I look over to see Zanita twirling in her hand a canary yellow piece of paper. She again shows a grin, looking curiously at me. I don't know why, but I was peeved to say the least. I thrust my hand under the table, tapping around before a flimsy flap was caught between my fingers. I pulled it out to reveal a royal blue post-it note. I saw out of the corner of my eye that Zanita's smile grew wickedly wide. "Defendant and Prosecutor, we're rivals then." 

Rivals, huh? 

Mr. Eaton stifled a cough, and then let the last words start the game.

" You know whose side you are on. And you know where the crime scene is- "

Oh no.

"Now-"

Shoot. Oh no.

"Go!"


	2. Deals from Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha I'm a year late. Enjoy

The scariest thing about students is just how ruthless they are when it comes to semester grades. 

The flight of absolutely rabid classmates had made me become just another casualty of their ravenous stampede to the crime scene- and like road kill, I was left underneath my seat when the whole class poured out of the room. 

It wasn't like I myself couldn't wait to get there- this is a competition after all. We all want to be the first-- first to find the police class, first to interview the witnesses, first to hand in our summaries- but there should be some civility in the matter. Out the door in a (relatively) ordered fashion, with a few sprinting ahead and the rest walking swiftly, but it's not like the situation is dire enough to excuse utter chaotic racing-  
But who am I kidding? I'm just a law school student after all. It's not like anybody would really care for my opinion on how the student body should ideally behave- but I suppose I'm just feeling angry at myself. Maybe if I had the guts to actually spear ahead rather than hold still out of terror, I wouldn't be sitting here, feeling spite for them.

Instead, I was alone in a formerly occupied room that had now been abandoned to me. If the situation was different, I would have considered this a miracle from the universe.

Nothing felt more ginormous than this room when it wasn't crawling with people, but I didn't have much time to ponder the architectural yugen that had now left me feeling so exposed, since the Professor was still there, tidying up his desk. He clearly saw me, but before I could get a word in, he waved his hand in playfully towards the door. "Go! What are you waiting for? Class is dismissed!" 

My gaze followed the door, and my internal-self pleaded that I needed to catch up with my classmates, but another voice countered that I should stay -- take advantage of this blessing in disguise. I had the professor all to myself -- but wait -- am I being a bother? Does he need to be somewhere?  
Would it be better to get a look at the crime scene? Maybe he could tell me something important, maybe he could give me a hint?   
In a moment's notice, I realized that I must have been staring at him, uttering absolutely nothing; I could tell by his furled brows, as if he was trying to read my thoughts.

"There's no homework?"

Of-fucking-course. Why did I say that? That's all I could ask? Not about who the supervisors were, not how he will keep the game fair, not how Zanita fucking always has something stupid to mention-

"Just the summary report. But there will be some next week, on top of the next summary," was the reply that lured my attention back. He fitted his papers into his briefcase with a crafter's neatness, and I bargained with my fleeting confidence. I must have looked so stupid, doe-eyed, and for what?   
He must have noticed, as I then spotted a clearly raised eyebrow in my direction. "Is there anything else you want to discuss, Zabira?"

Woah- he knows my name? He knows me? I thought I had been invisible entirely- 

"Ah, no! I was just going. See you next class!" 

Fuck! I had the opportunity of a life time! I could have asked him about last night's homework! Or my ranking, or something instead of looking so goddamn dumb!   
My feet skipped ahead of the rest of my body, and I'm sure it's because I couldn't handle another moment of awkward silence. I ripped the blue post it note from the desk and retreated to the door, barely acknowledging his final words,   
"Make sure to be on time from now on!" 

Outside, it was safe to sigh. It felt like such a relief to finally get some air- I must have been holding my breath for a while, I could barely get anything in my chest felt so weak. But, who has time to sit and sigh when you have a crime scene to investigate? Certainly not me! 

But I'll tell you right now that it's foolish to leap before you look. How am I going to proceed with this case? Which classmates am I going to use as testimony? Who can I trust?   
And there was also Zanita.

I pressed the post it note up to my glasses and noticed that there wasn't anything written on it, but the pretty blue felt really easy to look at. It not significant by any means, but I didn't really want to throw it out. Maybe I liked the color too much, or maybe it was a symbol for this quest- maybe it was what Zanita said to me in reference to it. I've never heard her say something like that to me before- she was never interested in being friends, just taunting me in class every day. I guess in technical terms we could be rivals, but I would prefer to label her as the fiend that she is. She's crass, a know-it-all, a show-off- and now she suddenly wants to be friendly by exuding that we are rivals now? Tch! She probably thinks this is all a joke, that I'm a joke for getting all nervous about an assignment when she clearly doesn't understand the importance of this game-

But, if she wishes to think that, so be it. I'm not her friend and she isn't mine. Fine! We're rivals. And I'll be the first, "rival," to wipe that smug grin off her face! I'm not going to let her beat me this time, nor anytime after that. And as I hurried along to my destination, I knew for sure that this wasn't going to be like any other battle we have ever had, with no absolute certainties or unlevel grounds- I'm not going to lose this time. I'm not going to stand there and give her the pleasure of making me feel like a second-class citizen -- 

I'll show her.   
I'll show her -- that's for sure.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Right off the bat -- it wasn't going to be easy. 

As I suspected, the crime scene was swarmed.  
Police tape, onlookers, my classmates, the forensics class- but their gasps and chatter were strange. There was a lot of nodding, some gapes of confusion, chin-stroking, and head shaking -- this is all from what I could see. Something was odd about how they gazed at the scene. Something suspicious about the lack of analysis in their eyes. Something unusual about the occasional sweeping look that moved elsewhere.  
Something I didn't like. 

I decided to get a better look and slide between the huddling bodies; I too found my mouth agape with shock when my eyes came to rest at the site. 

Police tape surrounded the grassy area, but all that was in it was a darkened shade of grass and a sneaker, but otherwise, the rest was empty; a small space under an unlit lamp. How could the body be gone?  
I could now make out what my classmates were saying:

"Are you serious?"  
"I thought that we would at least have the body to examine!"  
"Holy Cow -- how are we supposed to find a criminal if we don't even have the body?!"  
"Is this a murder or a goose chase?"

Suddenly, the bewildered glances made sense. I looked around as well-- but didn't see anything that warranted immediate suspicion either. We were all stuck.

Except for Zanita, as usual.

"Hey!" She yapped from my right. I could see her saunter forward out of the corner of my eye before feeling both my eyes roll to the side -- she's going to start her scheme. You know, the one where she gets everyone all rattled and distracted by giving out suggestions to divert people's attention. She's going to try to mislead to get a head start. I know it. And I know it because she does this every time. You would think people would catch on - I mean the case of Bailey Beuraguard is an ample example, but ill get into that some other time.

Either way, she's always well treated in spite of the crude coyote that she is; everyone tries to be her friend -- and even if you don't like her, she's still got a respectable opinion. It's not like she bullshits her way out of anything either. Zanita reads up and does all her homework before making any statements widely known, that's what makes her so infuriating. She's smart, she knows it, and she makes it everybody's business.

"So we don't have a body-- big deal. The professor wanted to challenge us, so we have to find it." Her hand rested on her hip in a leaning motion, relaxed but oh so cocky. She was smirking again, this time I could feel her looking down at me specifically. I could tell because her head leaned in my general direction, but her eyes scoured the crowd before they stopped at me; she only looked away when I felt myself frown from noticing.   
"So, maybe we should first start by checking with any local witnesses? There are classes still going on right now in the building across from us. Maybe someone saw something."   
Our fellow students nodded, some with too much agreement. 

A few students scattered, but some stayed back to contemplate Zanita's suggestion. A few of us were looking disapprovingly at her -- I was, of course, one of them.   
If you wouldn't trust a fox, then you certainly can't trust Zanita. 

Most were taking notes and taking pictures with their phones; the Forensics class was busy taking samples and the Police class was shooing away the remaining students. It was pretty much everyone's responsibility to find this boy, and I was certainly going to try. 

I was surprised no one mentioned looking to see if the cameras had caught anything, but maybe I wasn't the only one with that thought in mind; maybe everybody just thought it was their idea.  
There were three buildings surrounding the spot where I was; I decided to go to the building that was furthest away, Building A. 

I took one look over my shoulder at the dispersing crowd; everyone had gone except for a certain short-haired student and her posse of pricks.

I could have sworn she was smirking at me too.  
Tch.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"Are you sure?" I felt like the question came out in the most desperate of tones when it fell out of my mouth and into the lap of the listener.   
"Are you sure there isn't anymore?" 

"Look Kid -- I'm sorry. This is all the camera got, and you aren't the first one to ask either." The security guard bemoaned to me for the third time. Sure I might have expected a little too much to find video evidence just thrust my way -but nothing? Nothing at all had been caught? Not even a suspicious guy? Not once during the week had anything appeared out of the ordinary?

I slumped back in the cushioned chair and fiddled with my glasses in an attempt to fix them. I could sense a sincere but peeved gaze from the surveillance guard. I'm sure he understood that this depended on my grade, but I know that I was also being a bother. He had actual work to do; he couldn't sit and amuse me by claiming that he has evidence but not give it to me. I have to trust his word that there really isn't anything more.   
Another lead to nowhere.

It's been a week since we were assigned the case. And I haven't found a single clue. No one had found anything either. So I wasn't deeply troubled by my lack of findings; but, if nothing is found within the next two days, the location of the body will be released to the class. 

Now, I don't really mind this, as searching for someone has been dragging on for a long time now -- but wouldn't you want to be the person who finds the body? Wouldn't you want to be the one - the only one - to locate what others could not? The first? It's exciting! It's special! And it will certainly earn extra points from Mr. Eaton. Maybe some respect from my class too. So why wouldn't I at least try to find it? 

And wouldn't it be nice to rub it in her face?   
Zanita's was acting so confident for the first couple of days, claiming how "She would definitely find it since everyone else is just a numbskull," and, "She's sure nobody has found it yet because everyone is looking in very obvious places."   
But, from her icy glances and overall lack of chatting, she's clearly at a loss.   
I even asked her during class that day how her search was going, and she replied with a disinterested," It'll (the body) turn up somewhere."

Does she have to keep up the pretty face?  
Not that she's pretty! Just she's still trying to be such braggart even when she has no reason to be.

But oh, Friend, let me tell you - this was when we truly started all the trouble that would later follow us into the case. 

I came to the library, and it must have been close to 11:00 pm. I needed to study for my midterm exams, but most of all, I needed a break from Mr. Eaton's project. The strain and disheartening findings were destroying my motivation, so I sought a bit of quiet time. It was, unfortunately - not going to be quiet at all.

I sat down at an empty table, and to my displeasure, she sat across from me. 

Zanita had been flipping through a magazine with her feet on the table when she seemed to have lost interest in her reading and glanced at me. I didn't realize it was her at first but recognized her when she lightly tapped the table with . I looked up to see smiling, but not her usual wry smile. Not arrogant, but smaller - I would even say friendlier. 

Of course, I didn't trust this, and I opted to ignore her. She became more insistent - tapping a little more, whispering something lowly - I still didn't look up.

It was then that she came over, taking her seat only a few inches away from me. "Don't ignore me, Zabira."

I feel like that was the first time she said my name. My real name - not, "Zabby," or, "Zaab."  
Zabira.   
It felt strange, I couldn't say it was uncomfortable, but I couldn't ignore her after that.   
Finally, I ripped my eyes away from my textbook and acknowledged the nuisance that she was being; I didn't realize she was that close to me. My arm could touch hers if I move it even slightly -  
"Hey, Dummy."

I could feel the hairs on my neck stand up from how wispily she said that. It was quiet, soothing?   
No - like she was trying not draw attention to us.   
"Listen, I've got a lead on some footage of the case."

The space in my head grew quiet -- my heart skipped twelve beats in five seconds. A lead? After all this time?! Is this the rain that has come to flower the Sahara desert case?   
Is this it?  
"Why are you telling me this?" I managed only a hoarse whisper, as I wanted to hide my excitement so that Zanita wouldn't see it. 

"Because I think you're the only one who can get it." She offered a smug look in return to my confused one.  
"What do you mean?"

At this, she shook her head, slightly exasperated, but still appearing playful. What is it about me that amuses her in this way? Like she's a cat toying with a mouse - I'm sure I'm not the only receiver of such a glance. Maybe I just look too gullible.

"Here is the deal," She offered a pause before continuing. "I heard there was a guy in Building C, room 4, who was doing a film project and may have caught the murder on camera."

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" Echoed throughout the entire library. Zanita immediately pressed her finger to her mouth with a hiss.  
"Keep your voice down! Someone could hear us!" It was harsh, and she didn't make an effort to say it quietly either. 

I returned her whisper with my own." So, why do you need me for this? It seems like you have the guy."

Pensively, Zanita huffed at this mention.  
"Problem is, the guy hates our class. He hates everyone in it. So, anyone who has asked him for the footage has had the door slammed in their face, so to speak. Basically, the guy isn't talking." At this, she raised a slender index finger to the ceiling. "But- I heard he likes you."

"What?! Since when?!"

"Since - tch - it doesn't matter!" 

"How do you know he likes me??"

"Its a rumor, Zab."

We both took this moment to look for deceit in each other's faces. I searched for some glimmer of a lie; Persian green eyes lacked any malignancy, her lips didn't twist into any wicked form, she breathed in a regular pattern, her forehead furled with thought -- she was definitely reading me too. While I was looking at her maw, her eyes danced around my glasses, my cheeks -- my lips too. She was deciphering my features with an intense focus that I hadn't known she was capable of. She, at times, attempted to relax her jaw and meet my eyes again, but when the silence got too loud and too long, she opted to look away from me entirely, only then taking time to lean away from me.  
I couldn't see bad intentions; I know, it's stupid to guess this based on just her behavior alone. She was slick when she wanted to be, she most certainly could be lying to me, even if she wasn't showing it. Hell Knows how long she has had time to perfect that undeniable look of inscrutability. But I still couldn't say for sure that her words were weaved lies; Zanita just seemed to be giving too much thought to this conversation for it to be just a prank. 

So, I chose to believe her.

"Who is the student?"

My indirect agreement elicited the appearance of another smug smile.   
"I'll only tell you if you agree to go with me."

There's always a catch with these kinds of things.   
And here I was, actually considering her offer. 

What have I got to lose, honestly?  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Room 23." She chirped.   
In a presentation style, she waved her hand to our destination. My rival was feeling awfully good about herself, I could tell. She was twirling with each step as we made our way down the hall, but tried to be discreet about it, thankfully. I'm sure she was planning this all along, but everyone knows satisfaction when the perfect puzzle piece fits into place. At least this is what I assumed about her. 

"John Calverley, what a surprise. He was in my film class last semester."

"You took film?"

"Just for the credit."

Zanita placed her hands in her jean pockets before she leaned up against the wall adjacent to Room 23, and turned to face me. 

"Since I told you who it was and where they were, you have to give me the footage as well." 

"I already agreed to that you know. Otherwise, I wouldn't have come."

"I know, I just wanted to make sure you didn't forget. We're all depending on you."

"We're?"

She waved her hand around with a quick twirl, settling back onto her hip with a grand sigh.   
"Obviously you and I aren't the only ones doing this project; I only got this tip by asking around, they would want this info too as a repayment. Otherwise, they would never let me down for it."

She said this with more of an exhausted spiff on her words, as though they were as heavy as lead. Though her looks were critical, I can sense that she was saying this with a hint of honesty rather than sincerity. I know that at times you must make friends to get to certain places, rather than out of genuineness; that's Zanita's bread and butter after all. But, I suppose when that's all you do, it must be hard to make real friends. 

It's like being friends with the mob. All is well until you stop paying the monthly tax; then you suddenly have no friends on your side. 

But, in my opinion, that's why you shouldn't ask the mob for anything at all, lest you get stuck with a debt you can't ever repay.

In a way, I was doing the same at this moment though. Zanita has given me a contract where we both get something, and so does everyone else. But, at what cost? 

Even though I couldn't really tell if she had intentions beyond what she has already explained, I feel like I don't really have much of a choice either.   
We're both stuck.

"We don't have all day." She crooned with more teeth than tune.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it." 

It's no big deal really, we'll get the results no matter what, but this is about pride. And at least Zanita could agree with me on that.

I raised my fist to the door of room 23, and knocked with a sharp thump.  
There was a scurry of noise, not rushed, but clearly the occupant wasn't expecting anyone in particular. Zanita voiced rather quickly, "I'll be right here if you need me. Don't be afraid to call out if he gives you any trouble."

Before I could apply words to my confusion at this, the door swung open towards the hall, essentially hiding Zanita from view. 

The boy that stood in front of me was a few inches taller than me, with the grazed look of sleep deprivation, or maybe it was the torturous investment of online gaming, as he was wearing a green headset with a mic attached and placed near his mouth. He looked irked by my presence at first, but I could tell it was from unfamiliarity. It took him a second to recognize me, but when he did, his demeanor changed. 

Rather than disregard my entire purpose in being here, Calverley approached with a twitch at the corner of his lip, a restless gaze - 

"Zanita?"  
He bore his gaze into me, sheepishly at that, a slight crack in his voice was an inviting assumption that Zanita had been right with her pre-conclusions. 

I didn't know if I should have made formal talk first, or to get straight to the point- but he made the decision for me when he removed his arms from the door space and proceeded to leave it open for me.

"Do you want to come in? Or is there something else you need-"

"Yes!" Was my chatty answer- the peak of my verbal genius, I know.   
I brought my gaze down to the floor to settle myself- and I was surprised to find that my listener wasn't rushing in for me or attempting to press for a more clear response. He waited, albeit with running glance at me and then to the surroundings. I wonder what he has to be so anxious about.

"I wanted to inquire something from you about a supposed videotape?"

I immediately regretted this answer.

His persona flipped instantly to a callous glare, fraudulent with what I could only tell as mistrust- maybe even worse than that.

"Just like the others, huh? Every-fucking-body just here to get on my nerves huh?!"  
He grabs the doorknob and proceeded to slam it shut, but I was lucky I suppose. I managed to get my foot in the door in time.

"Please wait!" Was the most egregious sound I could make with my own mouth. It felt like I was downright begging- and in a way, its vexing to know that a boy had to hear me beg for my grade, and my classmate behind the door. But it was enough to stop his motion, and I could see his brow wrinkle with consideration. I have my chance.

"It's just- this is very important to me, and I know you and I haven't talked much since film class and I know you have no reason to even listen to my request-  
But, could you please make this the exception? I just need this little bit of evidence to really make my case and it would mean so much to me-"

His open hand thrust towards my face, looking away but I could see his manor was, though unhappy, agreeable. It was a," say no more," kind of motion- an acceptance to my plea.

He opened the door wider, and I snuck in before he could change his mind about me. 

Calverley motioned to the bed for me to take a seat, but I was wary and sat on the edge of it. This was my first time sitting in a boy's room, and his decorating skills were as minimal as my own. A tan desk with a computer and a controller, a blue cover atop a white mattress, a black shelf, and a steel gray rug. Tidy, but empty.  
Not much to it either. But of course, I'm no interior decorator and I am certainly not here to judge his artistic choices; I don't think any girl comes into a boy's room with those intention's anyway. 

Funny as it was, I couldn't help but feel that my heart was beating a mile a minute and wouldn't quell for anything. Just this entire situation felt utterly drenched with anticipation of too MANY possibilities. What is he going to do? What am I going to do?   
Will he sit next to me? On his chair? Will he just show me what I asked for? No? Will he want something in return? Will he want my body?! Is he going to ask me on a date?! What the hell is Zanita doing- is she spying? Is she recording this for blackmail? Was this all a prank? Does she really have nothing better to do????!!

"So-"  
I snapped back from my reality, and he has got this look on his face. Disappointed? No, maybe expecting something? But he looked like he wanted to say something perplexing, and chose to revise it last second into I assume something more palatable. 

"You guys are all trying to get ahold of this, right?"  
He shows me his desktop, then clicked on a symbol to reveal a video. I moved a little closer, and watched with focus.

It was a sped up version, obviously. But the point of interest was taped between 2:30pm and 3:05pm. The video quality wasn't Hollywood Boulevard here- but you can see the victim and the assailant. Milvakel was dressed in a red hoodie, and the suspect in all black, just as I remembered. I could even see myself there! I was running off to Mr. Eaton's. I had witnessed the crime in action!! And to think I DIDN'T EVEN TAKE NOTES?? I could have just gotten an A had I just freaking looked-

The fist fight progressed to an outright brawl- and from one frame to the next, it seemed like it was going to last a while. But then, I saw it. Our assailant brandished what looked like a knife, and made a clear stab motion towards Milvakel. He was overtaken and in that blurry of pixels, we saw a murder.

Well, not a real murder, but the abridged version.

Our killer took off, and I have yet to ever have a moment where I was glued to the screen like this. I was mesmerized- it was like I had found gold! All this evidence- and I'm the first to have it. A break in the case!!

If only I knew just how monumental this tape would become- my friend, this moment led me down a path I could have never foreseen, and of course, I explain this later- but this was the moment everything changed. Between me and the case, my status, me and Zanita even- this is famous for a reason. But, let's get back to the events at hand.

Our killer had taken a golf cart and had returned back to the scene at 3:30pm. No one else was seen walking on camera; it was desolate. 

He moved the body onto the golf cart, and drove straight off, and off camera at that. The license plate, while blurry, was not completely impossible to read.   
I've got my lead.

Calverley abruptly closed the video icon, and my movie was gone. He snatched the USB that was connected to his desktop, and without much warning, tossed it to me from his chair. 

I caught it on the instinct that it would fall towards my face, and looked to examine the vertical sketches of this little device. In my hands was all that I needed to succeed. It was all there, and all mine. Well, maybe not completely. I would make sure to, I suppose, share this with Zanita. She was the one who led me here, it's only fair to give her what she asked for. Our "shared" discovery. Pff.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"  
I stood up to get to the door but was drawn to gape at Calverley as his willed a, "No problem," at me. 

He wasn't staring, but he looked troubled. Disheartened.   
I only have this because of him- and his willingness to share this information. So, I felt I should return the favor.

"Hey, John? Would you want to go to see a movie with me sometime?" 

He shot me a look full of so much surprise that I almost wanted to question if my suggestion was in fact, a reality he deemed possible. Calverley stuttered, unsure of what to say, and I was losing my grip too.

Before I lost all the courage I had mustered to even get in here, I slipped my pen and blue post it note from my back pocket and scribbled my number before slapping it onto his desk.  
I did not even wave goodbye before I slammed his door behind me; I didn't wait for any proper responses on either side.

Zanita heard all of this.

Oh how she chastised me, with clever little insults that weighed in my brain like lead. She fluttered beside me as chatty as a hungry cat, but smirking as though she were the Cheshire herself. But, her smile cooled to a smirk when I showed her my prize, the USB, along with a loud exclaim that all I needed was the ability to make images clearer; she volunteered herself wholeheartedly.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Our analysis of the vehicle found that the golf cart was in fact, missing. 

But, Zanita made a quick text here and there and sure enough, the location was revealed. 

It wasn't too far from us either. The drive took about 5 minutes in total, leading us to a random dip next to a family owned American Bar and Grill, by the lake. 

Zanita parked her old car in the parking lot next to the restaurant, giving me time to look around. It was evening already, but there wasn't a shred of exhaustion in me; just excitement. We were so close I could smell it; of course, good feelings don't tend to last in bad company.

"You should repay me as well, you know? If Johnny gets a date, then shouldn't I get one too, Zabby?" Whined the devil.

"Maybe when you learn to stop calling me that, I'll consider it." 

"No fun, as always."

I huffed at this; her retort was a self-satisfied exhale, but I wasn't going to let her ruin my night, no siree. Not even now as we hopped out and shone our flashlights to the pebbly ground, not even as we made our way down to the lake with her exuberant presence beside me. Not even when I chose to   
continue debating the subject.

"You can date those ruffians you call friends instead."

"None of them complete me like you do."

"Oh please."

"I'm serious Zabira, you're one of a kind ~"

"Shut up already."

"I follow the truth and nothing but the truth. And-" She tossed her arm over my neck to capture my gaze; her scent was mildier than I thought it would be, even though her face was inches away from mine. The darkness faded out most of her features, merely illuminated by the lights in our hands. 

We were both still, but for a moment only. She was a vulture, inspecting me as the bird would a carcass, cautious but eager.   
But her look was puzzling, less than wishing to devour me, she was thinking of something else.   
Sometimes she has these moments where she appears to have something she wants to say, but then sifts through another such thought and proceeds to laugh it off or cover it with another. This is just a guess of mine, I have nothing backing this theory up. But, to be honest, I really don't know much about Zanita at all. It's been two years and I haven't even heard a single thing from any rumors about her- even less about who she really is.

And that fact is more apparent now than ever, now that I've glanced into her mischief and seen her reconsider yet another phrase. What is she thinking?

We stopped short of the water, before finally resting our eyes to the dark. Little orange clouds appeared on the horizon accompanied by a gentle shade of violet, who wore a veil of black as pitch, decorated with stars. 

I couldn't help but feel like the view was easing me out of the task at hand; I was drawn to just watch as ripples created a disordered image of the moon on the water, and I almost lost myself to it when the reality of a stern voice brought me back.

"It's here."  
I aimed my light in the direction of her voice, and saw the white cart shaded by reeds and a small tree. I joined her in silence, and we both examined the vehicle several times before getting closer; the license plate matched the one in the videotape. This was our suspect's transportation vehicle.

"So, where is the body?"

"Right there." 

I looked down to find an arm reaching out towards the bank, the rest of the figure was swallowed by black water. 

This wasn't ordinary by any means.   
And Zanita knew it too.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you guys think! Comments are always important, and I love getting your opinions.  
> (Not a legal expert, but will do my best to keep it realistic)


End file.
